


caesura

by orsumfenix



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Curiosity, Drunkeness, Hints of the Supernatural, M/M, Multi, Murder, okay never mind it's supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:46:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="red">
    <strike>
      <strong>murder</strong>
    </strike>
  </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="red">
    <strike>
      <strong>1.</strong>
    </strike>
  </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="red">
    <strike>the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another.</strike>
  </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="red">
    <strike>
      <strong>2.</strong>
    </strike>
  </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="red">
    <strike>a very difficult or unpleasant task or experience.</strike>
  </span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	caesura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~My dearest Reader,~~  
> 
> 
> ~~It was "Murder" that brought you here, wasn't it?~~  
> 
> 
> ~~\- ?????????~~

All in all, murder isn’t all that difficult.

Maybe it’d be more customary to use a knife, or a gun. But when he walks through the apartment, eerily calm and composed, Keiji is gripping two knitting needles so hard his skin turns pale.

***** doesn’t even see it coming.

\--

**23:06: oh god**

**23:07:?? WHAT’S WRONG?? **

**23:15: HELLOOO?? **

**23:17: can u come round**

**23:18: SURE!! **

**23:18: WHAT’S GOING ON?? **

**23:19: pls just be quick**

**23:20: I’LL BE SO QUICK NO ONE WILL EVEN NOTICE I’M GONE!! **

\--

Keiji puts the knitting needles on the kitchen counter, and pours himself a glass of wine.

***** is still sitting slumped on the chair, unmoving. The blood is pooling around him, seeping into the fabric of the seat and the carpet. Keiji finds himself sighing. The stains will be _hell_ to remove.

Bokuto still isn’t here.

It only takes a few moments to finish his wine, and almost subconsciously Keiji pours himself another glass, the red sloshing at the edges of the rim. It doesn’t spill, though. His hand is too steady for that.

(It shouldn’t be. But it is.)

He glances at the door. He’s not anxious, of course not – he’s just wondering when Bokuto will arrive.

It should be soon. Any minute now.

Keiji goes to take another sip, and realises that his glass is empty.

And so Akaashi Keiji pours another glass of wine, stares at the door, and waits for Bokuto.

\--

It’s only after five drinks that Bokuto shows up.

Keiji’s hands _are_ shaking by this point, though not from shock or any such nonsense. No, he’s simply had a little too much to drink. But that’s fine. He’s sure he can hold it.

Bokuto knocks as loudly and enthusiastically as ever, right as Keiji is pouring his sixth glass. He looks up towards the door and the bottle sways slightly, sending some wine onto the counter. He sighs. More cleaning up to do.

More knocks.

“Hey, hey Akaashi! Everything okay?”

Keiji takes a moment to muse on that question, reaching over to grab the key from the bowl he keeps it in. His apartment layout is slightly odd, with entrance being in the kitchen and everything else connected from there. And that includes the living room - where ***** lies, dead.

 _Is_ he okay? Probably not. He did just kill someone. Calmly. With knitting needles.

Keiji frowns, glancing at the body, and pulls the door to the living room shut. There. Problem solved. The body is no longer in sight.

He also puts the needles in a drawer, and places a porcelain bowl over the bloodstains it left on the counter.

Then he turns back, and lets Bokuto inside.

\--

“Are you sure you should be having _another_ glass? You kinda seem a little tipsy already.”

Keiji keeps on pouring. This is Glass Number Eight now. Not that Bokuto knows that.

“I’m fine.”

“Ok _aaay._ ” Bokuto doesn’t sound like he believes him. To be fair, if Keiji was in his place he doubts _he’d_ believe him, either. Also, Bokuto is kind of right.

They stand in silence for a few moments. The door to the living room is still shut.

“So, um.” It’s Bokuto who breaks the silence, chewing on his lip with vague apprehension. “Is there a reason you asked me to come round? Not that there needs to be, it’s just – kinda late. And dark. And spooky. But I’m not scared!”

_Yeah. You’re not scared and I’m fine._

He doesn’t say it, though. Keiji just sips at his wine, and stares at the clock.

Bokuto frowns.

“You okay? You seem kind of pale.”

“Like I said – I’m _fine_.” But his fingers are tightening on the glass and trembling slightly. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s probably because it’s so late!” Bokuto chimes in, ‘helpfully’. Keiji rolls his eyes. Because, honestly, it’s not _that_ late. It isn’t even _midnight_ yet. “You should get more rest, Akaashi. You’re going to over-exhaust yourself!”

Keiji quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re awake, too.”

“Well, _yeah_ , but – it’s… okay? For me.” Bokuto, it seems, has been stumped. Keiji feels his lips curl up.

And then, of course, Bokuto asks The Question.

“Hey, isn’t ***** around?”

\--

Twelve glasses, and Keiji finally opens the door.

Bokuto stares.

And stares.

And stares.

“Oh my god.”

“Sums it up,” Keiji retorts, though his words are slurring and he’s leaning –

\- against the counter to keep himself up. “It’s a big mess. We’re going to need to use – to use – some sort of detergent. Do you know which ones get rid of bloodstains?”

“Oh my god,” Bokuto says again.

Keiji rolls his eyes.

“Yes, we’ve gone through that. I killed, someone, it’s a big –

\- shock, etcetera. Now we need to do something about it.”

“Oh, god, Akaashi,” is Bokuto’s only reply, a whine present in his voice. “What have you _done_?”

He sees no reason to lie.

“I killed *****.” Then he pauses, whilst Bokuto turns around with big eyes. He looks like he’s about to cry. “With knitting needles. Not exactly trad – traditional, but it isn’t as though I planned very well. Or –

\- at all, really.”

“You – you killed him. With _knitting needles_.”

Bokuto _is_ –

\- crying, Keiji realises belatedly. Oh, dear. That’s his fault.

Keiji takes another sip of his wine, humming.

“I stuck them in his head.”

“By accident?”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow again, because if there’s one thing spending time with Bokuto has taught him, it’s how to look unimpressed.

“If it was on accident,” he says slowly, watching –

\- Bokuto’s face turn from distraught to terrified. “I wouldn’t be standing here drinking wine.”

Bokuto is upset, that much is obvious, but he’s trying to stay composed. Keiji appreciates that.

“Akaashi,” he says quietly, sounding as though if he spoke any louder than he would _scream_. “Maybe you shouldn’t have any more to drink.”

Defiantly, Keiji gulps down the last of the glass.

Bokuto just stares for a few –

\- more seconds, and then turns around, back to facing *****.

“I’m going to –

\- call Kuroo,” he informs, voice funny. “Maybe you –

\- should sit down.”

\--

“Oh my fucking god.”

Kuroo is here, and he’s freaking out. So is Bokuto, for that matter. They’re both overreacting.

“He says he used knitting needles,” Bokuto states, voice unusually high-pitched and frightened. “That he – stuck them in his _brain_. I think I’m gonna be _sick_.”

“Do it in the sink,” Kuroo advises, and it’s a sensible suggestion. Bokuto seemed as though he was exaggerating, but then suddenly he’s running into the kitchen and, sure enough, throwing up. It’s gross.

A moment passes, and then Kuroo says, “holy _fuck_.” Which Keiji thinks sums it up nicely.

Bokuto is still being sick. In all honesty, Keiji would have expected him to do this much sooner.

“Akaashi.”

He blinks belatedly. Oh. It’s Kuroo. Kuroo is speaking to him.

“Hi.”

Kuroo sighs, running a hand through his hair. Keiji has seen him after pulling all-nighters with Bokuto, but never before has he seemed so _tired_.

“Is there a _reason_ you suddenly decided to kill *****?” seems to burst out, before Kuroo’s shoulder slump and he rubs his eyes. “Sorry. I just – are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really.” Kuroo looks unimpressed. Keiji personally thinks that he’s the _best_ at looking unimpressed, but Kuroo isn’t really _that_ bad. “You know, somehow I doubt that.” Keiji doesn’t answer. Kuroo sighs again. “Bokuto said you’ve been drinking.”

At which point Keiji decides to roll his eyes. “ _Obviously_.”

Kuroo pauses.

“Did you start before or after you killed him?”

“After.”

“And it was on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Keiji doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks through to the kitchen, where Bokuto has stopped retching and is wiping his mouth.

“Hey. Akaashi.” Kuroo clicks to try and get his attention. “Answer me.”

So Keiji does.

And Kuroo has to leave the room.

| 

_*_ **** is still there _._

Bloody. Still.

Keiji is sitting on the chair to the side. He’s curled up, not quite in a ball, staring. Bokuto stopped him from having any more wine, so now he just sits and looks.

It doesn’t look real.

The room is just as still as the body, discounting Kuroo and Bokuto’s big arm gestures as they freak out. The walls are a dark purple – Keiji’s choice – and the carpet a light silver \- *****’s choice.

The blood splattered is staining the floor red. He really should get about cleaning that up.

A glance outside the window shows that it’s still night, and it’s still _dark_. Keiji feels bad that both Kuroo and Bokuto had to walk here when it’s so hard to see out. They could’ve _easily_ been attacked.

Then again, ***** was attacked, and he was ‘safe’ at home.

Keiji finds himself wondering about the knitting needles. They need to go, if he wants to cover this up. Them and the bloodstains they’ve left behind. Like the stains on the floor, it won’t be nice to clean up, but at least it might be a little easier.

He should probably burn the needles. That’s what people do in all the movies, right?

(Though, a film isn’t exactly real life.)

Keiji looks around. The wine is buzzing in his veins, clouding things. The room is as messy as always. Neither he nor ***** have ever been tidy, and it’s easy to tell by the empty wrappers and piles of books lying around haphazardly.

Kuroo starts speaking to him, and then goes into the kitchen and stands by Bokuto. Keiji pulls out his phone.

His fingers are shaking, which is annoying, and Keiji belatedly realises that there are specks of blood dotted on his skin. He wonders how Bokuto failed to notice, then he puts that thought out of his head and dials the number he’s memorised.

“ _Hello?_ ”

It’s a male voice that answers, heavy and serious. Keiji looks up at the beige ceiling.

“Hello,” he says, words slurring. “Is this the Aoba Johsai Clean-Up Team?”

A pause, and then, “Who’s asking?”

Keiji uncurls himself and leans back on the chair, closing his eyes.

“My name is Akaashi Keiji,” he informs. “I just killed my boyfriend.”

“Tell us your address,” the voice instructs. “We’re here to help.”

Keiji does.  
  
---|---  
  
\--

Two men arrive soon enough, decked out in suits and carrying briefcases. They look very professional. Kuroo shows them in.

“It’s _him_ that called you,” he states, jerking his head towards Keiji. “He’s kind of drunk.”

“I can tell,” one of them comments wryly, before slipping a pair of rubber gloves on. “I’m Iwaizumi. This is Oikawa. We’re here to clean up the mess.”

“We were worried you’d be the police,” Bokuto confesses in a hushed tone. Or, at least – hushed for _him_. “He just – called you. We couldn’t stop him.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi turn to look at Keiji as one. In all honesty, he’s dropping off to sleep.

~~“Who did you call?!” Kuroo demands, looking the angriest since he arrived here. “Give me your phone.”~~

~~“It was some people who’ll clean this up,” Keiji insists, blinking heavily. Bokuto has moved back into the living room to stand beside Kuroo, and looks very… worried. It’s odd. “And no. It’s _my_ phone, and if you take it off me I have every right to call the police.”~~

~~“Oh, great idea!” Kuroo snaps, eyes seeming to blaze. “You can tell them you just killed your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll take that well.”~~

~~“Is that who you just called? The police?” Bokuto inputs, chewing on his lip anxiously. Keiji shakes his head.~~

~~“I’ve already said. It’s people who can help.”~~

“I’m usually more level-headed than this,” Keiji informs in what he hopes is a bored tone, but probably comes out slurred as all fuck. “I’m just – drunk.”

‘Iwaizumi’ snorts and ‘Oikawa’ laughs. Kuroo looks unimpressed.

“Look,” he begins, folding his arms. Bokuto keeps staring at Keiji. “Are you going to help or not?”

Oikawa just _smirks_.

“You won’t know what hit you,” he informs smugly, setting the briefcase down on the floor and removing… _something_. “By the time we’re done, there won’t be a speck of  blood left in this place.”

“And if you do just as we say, Prettyboy over there won’t go to jail, or be tried,” Iwaizumi continues with an ease that indicates he’s known Oikawa for a _while_. Keiji stares at them. They’re both _really_ good looking, and the suits don’t exactly leave much to the imagination. “Trust me, we’ve done this shit before.”

~~“So – who’s coming, again?” Bokuto asks for what must be the tenth time. Keiji and Kuroo sigh in union, which is a nice little moment. “’Cos neither of you are explaining it very well.”~~

~~“That’s because I barely get it myself,” Kuroo states grimly, shooting a _look_ in Keiji’s direction. “It’s Akaashi that apparently knows these guys.”~~

~~Keiji frowns slightly.~~

~~“I’ve already said that I don’t,” he informs, wondering why this conversation is bothering him more than the blood or the murder or even ***** himself. “I just – know what they can do. They can clean up your messes. That’s why they’re a Clean Up Team.”~~

~~Bokuto frowns.~~

~~“What’s a Clean Up Team?”~~

~~“Yeah, Akaashi,” Kuroo tacks on, glancing at the ceiling as if for guidance. “What _is_ a Clean Up Team?”~~

~~Keiji just wraps his arms tighter around his legs.~~

~~“I’m tired,” he informs distantly. “I’d like to go to bed.”~~

~~“No, no _way_ ,” Kuroo insists, whilst at the same time Bokuto says, “Maybe you should try to stay awake.”~~

“So,” Oikawa says rather loudly, clapping his hands. “This your first murder?”

Bokuto splutters and Kuroo makes a weird noise from his throat, but Keiji just smiles lightly. He’s built up a tolerance over the years, and the wine is starting to wear off, but he’s tired and his eyes keep trying to shut.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve done a surprisingly decent job,” Iwaizumi comments, while Bokuto and Kuroo continue to make weird noises. “What’d you use, some spears?”

“Close,” Keiji corrects, running a hand along the armchair for no reason other than to _feel_. “Knitting needles. They’re in a draw. Can I go to bed now?”

“No,” Kuroo commands at the same time Oikawa says, “Yes.” They take a moment to glare at each other.

“He’s not gonna be any help like this,” Iwaizumi cuts in, messing with his phone. “Might as well let him go to bed and sleep off the booze. Though I’d, uh – recommend you getting him out of here. It’s not good to be found at the scene of a crime.”

~~Kuroo and Bokuto have moved into the kitchen to talk about things. Bokuto sounds especially upset, but Bokuto is something of a drama queen. It’s probably nothing.~~

~~Two men arrive soon enough, decked out in suits and carrying briefcases. They look very~~ ~~professional. Kuroo shows them in.~~

~~“It’s _him_ that called you,” he states, jerking his head towards Keiji. “He’s kind of drunk.”~~

~~“I can tell,” one of them comments wryly, before slipping a pair of rubber gloves on. “I’m Iwaizumi. This is Oikawa. We’re here to clean up the mess.”~~

~~“We were worried you’d be the police,” Bokuto confesses in a hushed tone. Or, at least – hushed for _him_. “He just – called you. We couldn’t stop him.”~~

~~Oikawa and Iwaizumi turn to look at Keiji as one. In all honesty, he’s dropping off to sleep.~~

~~(We’ve seen this.)~~

“Welp,” Kuroo says loudly, clapping his hands. “I don’t really trust you guys, but I don’t trust Akaashi either. Can you see a solution here?”

“…I’ll stay,” Bokuto replies, to the surprise of everyone. Even Keiji finds himself quirking a brow. Bokuto summons a smile. “Don’t worry, Kuroo, I’ll make sure they don’t like… steal anything.”

Kuroo looks concerned. Iwaizumi and Oikawa both just look impassive, but it looks like a type of non-expression that they’ve developed. This isn’t their natural state of being. (They’re good at it, though.)

Everyone starts talking, then, about trust and issues and how are they even gonna clean up the blood, really?

Keiji tunes out, drifting off, and is only roused when Kuroo grabs him by the arm.

“Come on, then. We’re leaving.” Kuroo lets out a big sigh, with Keiji thinks is kind of uncalled for. “And if you try to kill me with knitting needles, I swear to god, I’m locking you in the bathroom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Keiji mutters half-heartedly, allowing himself to be bundled out the door into the cold and the dark and the _rain_. “I wouldn’t use the same murder weap – weapon twice. I’d pick something else. Like tweezers.”

Kuroo has never looked so disturbed.

\--

**10:29: Good morning, Bokuto-san.**

**10:30:!! HEY HEY HEY!! SO UR AWAKE THEN!!**

**10:32: Nicely observed.**

**10:32: Just to clarify – last night still happened, didn’t it?**

**10:36: YOU MEAN WITH *****??**

**10:37: Yes.**

**10:39: I’M**

**10:40: i’m really sorry, akaashi**

**10:42: It’s fine. I knew I probably wouldn’t be so lucky.**

**10:43: R U OK??**

**10:45: I really don’t know.**

**10:46: WELL UR TYPING PROPERLY AGAIN!!**

**10:47: Thank you for pointing that out, Bokuto-san. I never would have realised otherwise.**

**10:48: AW UR WELCOME AKAASHI :) :)**

\--

See? Murder is simple as anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest Reader,  
> 
> 
> They say that Curiosity killed the Cat. In this case, _you_ are the Cat.  
> 
> 
> I suppose that makes me Curiosity.  
> 
> 
> \- ?????????


End file.
